


firsts

by WinterRoseQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Maybe this doesn't have to be modern, Modern AU, You can decide, nonlinear timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6346534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterRoseQueen/pseuds/WinterRoseQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Sandor held her in his arms, she was crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. to have and to hold

**Author's Note:**

> This could be better if I was trying. Oh well. I'm thinking of making a series of "firsts" in their relationship, if I ever get around to it. That depends on my inspiration and motivation.

Sandor had heard a quiet knock on his front door in the dead of night, timid. He opened it with a muttered curse.

Sansa Stark–the little bird, perfect, pristine, and the girl who he would walk through flames for–standing before him looking less put-together than he'd ever seen; yet no less lovely. Her autumn hair was let loose from its complicated updo, tumbling freely over the shoulder of a distinctly disheveled dress, strands clinging to tear-stained cheeks. Her face was flushed pink and a full lip trembled. Red-rimmed eyes were pleading, desperate, so full of pain, so lost, so beautifully haunting.

He said nothing, only found himself catching her as she seemed to collapse into his arms. Sansa gripped the fabric of his shirt, shaking with silent sobs. Sandor was at a loss. For the first time in his life, someone appeared to be coming to him for comfort, and he had absolutely no hint as to what it was. All he knew was that whatever, whoever, hurt her, he desired to end in an instant.

Sansa wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, close enough to hear the ragged breaths in his ear, to inhale the natural perfume of her skin. He held her against him as you would something delicate, fragile–gently and firm lest it slip from careful fingers and shatter. Sandor knew that it wasn't Sansa who was so easily breakable, but the moment itself.

There was no telling how long they remained frozen in the doorway–minutes or hours, it made no matter because there must always be an end. Sansa slowly slid from him. Her eyes were almost dry, face just faintly pink. Only then did he feel an ache in his back, stiffness in his legs. He closed the door.

"I'm sorry-" Sansa began softly.

"Don't." Sandor said, perhaps a bit sharper than intended. Her bottom lip trembled again, and he found himself saying, "Tell me what's wrong." Sansa didn't answer, instead chose to study her surroundings for an agonizingly long time. Her eyes finally settled on his face and she stepped forward, lacing her fingers with his.

He allowed himself to be led, quite dazed, to his own bedroom. Sansa laid wordlessly on his bed, pulling him down beside her. She lowered her head to his chest and he held her close in a daze.

  
He vowed to never let go.


	2. ignite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time he saw her, he craved fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to editing the first chapter of my old fic Breaking the Silence and it inspired me to continue with this older thing.

The first time he saw her, he craved fire.

She was everything a fire was to most. A warmth like a kiss traveled from her youthful face straight to the heart he had previously assumed was stone. But it wasn't and it was hers, or perhaps it had always been so. And the curls that fell down her back and tickled that long, slender neck seemed to sing the songs of every dream he ever crushed in his own mind. Everything light.

She had almost passed him already, unseeing, gliding like a dancer with no sense of her own innate grace, or more sense than most. All the while her eyes were fixed on another, a tall, young, cruel object of vain affection that he could tell would only ever cause her pain like a burn.

He turned away, thoughts melting in the blue of bubbling rivers and flames that danced in a way that didn't fill him with leaded fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These will all most likely be little blurbs of thoughts or prose. Short and sweet or short and bitter.


	3. sense and sensibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first time they kissed, it was raining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to a Sansa POV! I guess I'm on a Sansan roll today.

The first time they kissed, it was raining.

  
Almost like a movie, just like a dream. She never meant to lean closer just as he never meant to love her, and so the moment became as indelible as the scars on his face.

The street was empty as only an icy storm could make it, chasing away most who would leave errands and business for more palatable days. Sansa didn't mind the cold and he didn't protest when she pulled him into the rain by an insistent hand. He only dropped his coat around her shoulders, drowning her in leather and heat and the scent of him.

It was the type of gesture she imagined over and over as a young girl, full to bursting with romantic sensibilities and chivalrous, idealistic notions about love. A laugh bubbled up from her throat when she realized he was as close to a knight as she would ever meet, and oh how bitterly the thought would be received by the man in question. Rivulets of water poured freely over his face as he squinted at her, muttering about her catching cold like he didn't want her to hear and squinting even more when she smiled wider than she had in years. Her cheeks pulled like they had nearly forgotten, and he watched her through the downpour in confusion.

She shifted forward and up onto her toes to join his lips with hers, like they were always fated to do so.


	4. silly songs and simple truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time he said he loved her, it was dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have too many feelings about Sansan and Sandor right now but I'm not overly satisfied with how this came out. Oh well. Also—implied sex ahead, though 0% graphic. Later chapters may warrant a rating change but it's still tame for now.

The first time he said he loved her, it was dark.

It's hard to see monsters in the dark; otherwise, who would fear it? Sandor feared a dreadful light—the type that delivered pain straight from hell and summoned a primal terror like no other. Yet he was never more afraid than when he laid beside her on her once neatly-made bed, all a tangle of sheets and limbs and just-cooled sweat that he could not see.

He loved her, and he had always thought he'd known, but he never imagined how raw, how full, how achingly sweet his heart could feel in his chest when he realized she might just love him back. It was singing like a songbird in his chest, familiarly voiced and desperate to be free.

He could hear her soft, even breaths mingling with his racing thoughts. “Sansa,” he whispered like he was tasting the name,as if he hadn't whispered it like a prayer a thousand times. It was hardly audible above that ridiculous singing heart of his.

Her name was caught by the quiet and swept into the dark. If she hadn't seemed to hear it, have words been spoken at all? He had sworn many times that he'd never lie to her and so the murmured declaration was easy to voice:

“I love you.”

From the night’s blindness came a hand to rest upon his ruined face. “I love you,” she said like the softest lullaby. He did not flinch away. He smiled.


End file.
